


With Open Affection

by vesta02



Series: Nerds in Love [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Arguments, Bathing, Bruises, Canon Divergence, Caring, Chant of Light, Damn Orlais, Declarations Of Love, Dragon Age Alt Pair Week 2016, Dragons, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, First Kiss, First Time, Former Solas/Inquisitor, Game Dialogue, Gossip, Hakkonites, Inquisition Disbanded, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, NPC Romance, Pain, Pregnancy, Romance, Sex, Smut, The Descent DLC, Trespasser, Undressing, Wedding, arm loss, loss of limb, prosthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesta02/pseuds/vesta02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the end of her relationship with Solas, Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan never expected to find love, most certainly not with a human academic. Moments and prompts for the Dragon Age Alt Pairing Week 2016 featuring Ellana Lavellan and Bram Kenric, two huge nerds falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alt Pair Week is next week but I thought I'd jump start my posting here! This whole thing is pretty much dedicated to trevelyann for a) getting me into this pairing and b) helping beta this beast of a first day selection. Day 1: First Meetings, otherwise known as "Five times Bram Kenric almost met Ellana Lavellan and the one time he did".

**First** (Val Royeaux) 

_He sees her from a distance in Val Royeaux._

The city was in mourning when they arrived. Bram Kenric had expected as much but needed to see it for himself. There had been too many whispers along campus for anyone to truly sort out _what_ had happened. Classes were suspended and rumor of the unrest in Val Royeaux had reached his door when he made the decision to see it firsthand.

Bram was a historian and a scholar; why would he simply let history happen on his doorstep without finding a way to witness it himself?

Colette shifted uncomfortably at his side. “They’re staring,” She murmured, displeasure coloring her every word, a scowl prominent on her face. “The Divine is dead and they’re happiest whispering behind their ears about a stray rabbit in the city.”

“Don’t worry,” Bram reassured, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It only took a moment before Colette let out a barking laugh, bemused as she stated very quickly, “Professor Kenric, you’ve never held a weapon in your life. If your aim were better, perhaps a book would be suited for your defense, but you love them far too much to abuse the stacks on your desk like that.”

Well, she _did_ have a point.

Bram had never held a weapon in his life (unless he counted the few times his older brothers tried to goad him onto the practice field back in Starkhaven but those were wooden swords that had felt strange and uncomfortable). Still, it was the thought that counted as she gave him a little smile, snorting as he rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly.

“Fair point,” He muttered, slowing his pace as the crowd grew thicker closer to the Summer Bazaar. There was a commotion ahead - Bram was tall enough to see over the crowds, but Colette perched on the tips of her toes, holding onto his arm for support.  A Chantry Mother was speaking vigorously to the crowd, murmuring traveling through the group at her words. Bram frowned, unable to hear exactly what she was saying from this distance.

“Can we get any closer?” Colette asked, voicing Bram’s next suggestion aloud. It took a little creative maneuvering as he took the lead through the crowd - Colette rolled her eyes every time he muttered an apology as they squeezed by - moving closer and closer to the front. Despite the tension in the air, no one seemed willing to pick a fight with the curly-haired Professor and his small assistant carefully squeezing their way through the crowd, which he was grateful for.

“Cannot believe Most Holy is dead-”

“Have you heard about the Templars?”

“I hear the Lord Seeker has returned to Val Royeaux!”

“The end is near and we stand around waiting for it to-”

The market was buzzing and it only seemed to get louder the closer they moved to the center. Despite the muted colors, the tension and the somber atmosphere, this was still Orlais and gossip flitted from person to person as all eyes focused on the Chantry Mother. Bram paused, planting himself (adjusting to Colette stood in front of him so she might see easier), eyes fixed on the Mother standing atop a wooden platform that had most certainly not been there two weeks ago when Bram had wandered the Bazaar.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” Hands raised to the crowds that had gathered, the Mother gazed upon the city. Bram kept silent, hoping that the Chantry might offer exactly what this city needed right now: hope and a solid sense of purpose, comfort for those frightened by the strange events that had unfolded before them. “We mourn our Divine. Her beautiful and naive heart silenced by treachery.”

She paused, her gaze resting on the crowd and her lip curled ever so slightly into a sneer. Bram found his own gaze wandering to where the Mother glared, raising himself just a bit to see over the heads of others gathered. He didn’t have to do much to see, watching as those gathered pulled themselves away from a pair of women, one in full armor and the other openly carried a stave strapped to her back. “You wonder what will become of her murderer? Well, wonder no more!”

An audible gasp rose from the crowd, the Mother raising a shaking finger to the younger woman, disgust dripping from her tone. “Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste, claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet.” The Mother paused, adding icily, “The Maker would not send us an elf in our time of need.”

“Maker, it’s a Dalish elf,” Colette muttered to Bram, nose wrinkled in obvious distaste. “See the tattoos?”

Bram said nothing, entranced for a moment when the woman’s face tilted, eyes scanning the crowds around her. He wasn’t too far back and he could see Colette was right. Bright green tattoos traced along her face, branches from a tree that sprouted along her nose, under her eyes, along her forehead. They matched her green eyes, which were wide with uncertainty and he thought he caught a slight tremble of her lower lip.

There was something beautiful about her and Bram swore, for just a moment, he felt his heart flutter.

“I seek to close the Breach, nothing more!” The wind caught a strand of blonde as it fell away from the bun secured at the back of her head, gaze forward again to speak directly to the Mother.

The armored woman beside her - a Seeker, Bram noted, eyes falling onto the insignia along her armor - stepped forward, her voice rising above the rest. “It’s true. The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late.”

“It is already too late.”

The crowd shifted and Bram couldn’t see the commotion ahead of him. But he could hear it; the clatter of armor and the shocked gasps that came before more shouting. Colette shifted uneasily in place. Bram felt the dangerous shift in the air too, and he didn’t want to place them both in the middle of danger, despite his urge to watch the events unfold.

“Maybe we should-” Bram began but Colette was already turning, tugging at his arm to pull them both away from the chaotic cluster at the center of the square. He tried to spare one last glance to the Dalish elf but there were too many people in the way as the Professor and his assistant made a hurried exit.

 

 **Second** (Skyhold)

_She passes him by at Skyhold._

It wasn’t an extensive library by any means, but Bram knew he wouldn’t find any of it’s equal back in Orlais. Nor would he find anywhere with more first source material concerning the last Inquisition so readily at his fingertips. Running a hand along the spines of the nearest shelf, Bram sighed under his breath, head tilted just slightly to read the titles better in the candlelight.

“Is there a particular title you’re looking for?” A man cut in, startling Bram. He flashed a little smile to the mage - Dorian, yes, that was his name - shaking his head.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” He paused a moment, before adding hastily, “thank you though, I appreciate the offer for help. Maker knows I need all the help I can get.”

“Ah yes,” Dorian smirked, leaning against a nearby bookcase, “I’ve heard about your research from our diplomat. You’re searching for clues regarding the previous Inquisitor?”

“Yes,” Bram nodded, pulling one of the tomes from the shelf to glance over the title. Not relevant to his research but he made a mental note to spend time perusing the shelves for other works that caught his eye. “Which is rather hard when the last Inquisitor up and vanished without so much as a by-your-leave.”

“Terribly rude of him and a bad show of manners,” Dorian agreed with a low chuckle. “But you have some leads if you’ve managed to get permission to search for materials, yes?”

Bram nodded with a slight grimace. “I, well, I have _something_ , but it’s not exactly...I mean to say-”

“You mean to say that you _exaggerated_ your letter to our dear diplomat?” Dorian finished the sentence for him. Bram paused, hand on the next book, heart pounding in his chest. The truth, the _real_ truth, was that he didn’t have a clue if he’d find anything in the library housed in the keep. He’d made up a few things, spun some stories,with the help of Colette, bless her, he didn’t have it in him to concoct any decent lies without help and practice, but he’d hoped to find something on the shelves before being discovered. As it was, he’d only been there a few hours and most of that time had been spent acquainting himself with the keep and settling himself into one of the spare rooms above the garden.

“Please,” Bram removed his hand from the shelf, turning to fully face Dorian, “let me have a little time, I _know_ I can find something valuable if I only-” He was silenced when Dorian raised a hand. To his surprise, the other man _laughed_.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” Dorian reassured with a wave of his hand, “though you might try to keep yourself a little better contained when approached about a white lie you’ve told.” Dorian paused, adding, “Everyone is far too concerned about preparations for the Winter Palace, however, which should buy you time.”

Bram nodded, relieved despite the flush in his cheeks at being caught in a lie. “Thank you,” he muttered, “I appreciate it.”

“Dorian,” a female voice called from the rotunda below, “did I leave my copy of _Swords and Shields_ up there?”

Leaving Bram to his task, Dorian leaned against the railing, a smirk sliding effortlessly into place. “Don’t tell me the Seeker’s gotten you into that filth as well?”

A laugh followed. “Oh, but it’s a _fun_ read, Dorian, surely you can admit to that.”

Dorian bristled visibly and Bram had to turn away, attempting to go back to his search without intruding on the conversation (or laughing). “Never! I swear I felt dumber when I picked it up.”

“Are you done insulting my taste in literature or are you going to toss my copy down to me?”

“It’s up here,” Dorian replied, “but I was told just yesterday to stop throwing books over the ledge as they disrupted _delicate Fade research_.”

There was a loud scoff, a soft laugh and the exchange over the ledge stopped for the moment.

Bram’s hand lingered on a spine of one of the books, not sure if he should laugh (or could, he wasn’t even supposed to be there and drawing attention to himself when searching for a reason to be allowed back did not sit well with him in the moment), though he did chance a glance to the side. His heart fluttered again, caught in the moment when he saw her again.

Framed in the doorway, looking far more regal than the last time he’d seen her, the Inquisitor made no attempt to hide the amused smile on her lips. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, the candlelight capturing the lines of her green tattoos ( _vallaslin_ he reminded himself after reading a handful of articles on the Inquisition and their new Inquisitor a few weeks back).

It was hard to reconcile the stories of the woman who brought an Envy demon to its knees; recruited Templars into the fold; who had faced an Old God and walked physically in the Fade twice with the youthful elf before him. She looked unassuming, easily tilting her head to tease her Tevinter comrade as he handed her the book she’d been asking for.

“It’s not _scholarly_ ,” the Inquisitor started, “but we have to put our tomes down for a little light reading now and again.”

“Yes, _light_ ,” Dorian replied, “and it helps that I see you’ve dog-eared every dirty scene in the book.”

He turned his head quickly, anxious not to get caught staring, hearing the swat of her book against Dorian’s arm. His gaze focused back on the books before him but none of the titles stood out, listening to the soft conversation instead.

“Will you help me later? I can’t quite get these steps down. Josie’s nervous enough about the whole affair, I don’t need her worrying that I’ll cause an international incident if I step on someone’s toes.”

“Ah yes,” Dorian gave an overdramatic sigh, “I can hear it now. Gossip spreading far and wide about how the esteemed Inquisitor Lavellan tread on the Ambassador from Val Gamord and suddenly we’re involved in a land war across the mountains. The Orlesians do enjoy their gossip.”

Bram couldn’t help it - he snorted from the stacks. He hoped they hadn’t heard him, his cheeks flushed pink as he grabbed the first book closest to his hand to bury his nose into in an attempt not to draw more attention to himself. Eavesdropping was unbearably rude, even if he agreed that the _grand_ Game was ridiculous.

Thankfully neither of them seemed to notice he was listening.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the Inquisitor sighed, “I’d appreciate the help. Are you free after dinner?”

“Free as a bird, Ellana,” There was warmth to his tone. Bram stole a glance, catching the Inquisitor ( _Ellana_ he thought) standing on tip-toe to press a low, smacking kiss to his cheek.

“Perfect. I have something to look forward to once I’ve finished discussing a few things with Leliana.”

Dorian waved his hands at her, shooing the Inquisitor effectively away from him. “Yes, go on. Do important things like saving the world through espionage. I’ll be here when you need me.”

For a moment their eyes met as she turned away from Dorian. Bram wasn’t fast enough to look away before she caught him staring. He gave a quick, nervous smile, feeling his heart turn over in his chest when it was returned. But she didn’t linger, clutching her book to her chest as she hurried up another flight of stairs.

It was all Bram could do not to stare. Only when he heard a chuckle to his side did he realize he _had_ been, frowning (and blushing, Maker preserve him) as he turned back to the work at hand.

 

 **Third** (Skyhold)

_She sees him through a haze of tears and guilt knaws in the pit of his stomach._

“I don’t understand!”

“Inquisitor-”

“Please, if you could just explain it to me, maybe I can understand.”

Bram couldn’t help himself, unable to keep reading as he heard shouting in the rotunda below. His own research here was coming to a close (a second trip had offered him use of the library when the first yielded quite a bit more than he was expecting) and he was due to leave Skyhold in the morning. It was dangerous, trekking across the mountains twice in the middle of such a chaotic time, but Bram didn’t trust anyone else with the books he needed.

“The answers would only lead to more questions.”

He shouldn’t eavesdrop, but a glance up and he found he wasn’t the only one listening to the argument below.

“I don’t know why I even tried to talk with you,” There was no denying the hurt; anger; pain in Inquisitor Lavellan’s voice from below. Bram had heard a runner earlier whispering about her hurried return back to Skyhold and rumors were flying through the keep. The Dalish Inquisitor, returned bare-faced, without her _vallaslin_ , weeping on her Hart before going to meet with the war council.

He closed his book, shut his eyes, listening despite himself. He had heard the rumors in Orlais as well, read the gossip printed in the papers. They all spoke of the elven lover the Inquisitor had taken up, the care she had shown him in Halamshiral and the fact that he was an apostate simply scandalized the nation.

He should have stayed where he was, but curiosity got the best of him as he inched away from the shelves, moving to the balcony. There were a few other curious faces glancing down which simultaneously made him feel better and worse about it all.

Bram could see the top of their heads from where he stood. The apostate stood back rigid, hands behind his back, looking to the world like a man in charge of the situation. The Inquisitor was shaking, only a few feet from him, her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“Because you are hurt! Because I made a selfish mistake and you deserve better,” The man sighed, shaking his head. “Pick any reason.”

The Inquisitor brought a hand to her cheeks, presumably to wipe away tears. “You never let anyone see behind that polite mask of yours, do you?” There was a certain edge to her voice, a steeled quality that seemed so out of character from the woman Bram had seen last time.

“You saw more than most.”

It happened so fast. She moved, hand outstretched as a resounding _slap_ echoed in the chambers. The man stumbled and she pulled away quickly, hands over her mouth. 

“Solas, I-”

“Perhaps I deserved that.” He straightened, one hand to his cheek. “Let me know if I can be of any assistance in preparation for the final fight.” His own gaze shifted, his expression darkening some when Solas spotted the people looking down.

In that moment, Ellana Lavellan lifted her gaze and Bram felt his stomach flip and twist terribly. Her cheeks were bare, as he’d heard, the vines and tree roots she’d worn before gone. With red rimmed eyes, their gaze met for only a moment and Bram turned quickly.

He shouldn’t have looked down.

 

 **Fourth** (Divine)

_From a distance, she looked so sad as a sea of people stood between the pair of them._

It felt like all of Orlais had turned out for the celebration of Divine Victoria. With the Breach closed once and for all, some semblance of order had begun to settle in the world. Caught in his own research, Bram would have missed the world nearly ending has his colleagues not pointed out their windows excitedly when they noted a healed but scarred sky above them.

Just as they’d closed down over the previous Divine’s sudden death, the University paused their lectures the week of the Most Holy’s ascent to the Sunburst Throne.

Had he been more important or perhaps been a first born son to a far nobler family, Bram would have found himself in a better position to see the grand procession through the city streets. As it stood, he was farther back than he’d have liked (if only to see what was happening, to mentally record the moment in time) without any hope of getting closer. 

Still, to be considered for any seat, especially as a young Professor, was enough for Bram to consider the day a success. He and Colette sat, squeezed into the very back along the highest level in the cathedral.

“I should have borrowed opera glasses,” Colette joked under her breath and Bram laughed. It wouldn’t have been a bad idea he realized when he spent most of the ceremony squinting down at the small figures below. He never felt more happy to be back outside than when the ceremony was finished. He was tired of being squished into his seat and had a headache from the incense they kept waving around at the front.

The city was alive, bright and full of celebration. “Come, we should go have a drink!” Colette laughed, tugging at his wrist, dragging him towards the crowds. “Our research can wait another night, surely.”

“In a moment,” Bram waved her off with a chuckle, “I’m going to the water, clear my head from the smoke.”

“I’ll be here, probably,” Colette turned, spotting a fellow student, and she vanished into the throng

It was quieter near the harbor as Bram took his time, stretching his arms over his head and letting out the yawn he’d been holding in for the last twenty minutes. Almost everyone had gone towards the city, to the parties and revelries that would last well into the night. Honestly, Bram didn’t care for all the loud celebrations, eager to get a few drinks out of the way before tucking back into his cramped room on campus. He was close, so _very_ close and he knew he’d find a break through sooner rather than later.

Well, he had to tell himself that, in any case. He didn’t want the last year to have been in vain.

He should have known she would be in the city today, come to celebrate the victory of her former Spymaster made Divine and toast a world without the Breach. He came to a quick halt regardless, catching sight of her profile turned to the side. She was regal today, dressed in what he could only assume were the finest silks and jewels her station and victory could offer her. She leaned against the railing along the bay, shoes dangling from one hand, eyes closed against the sounds of the city before them.

For someone who had saved the world from certain destruction, Inquisitor Lavellan looked so incredibly sad. He could go to her, speak with her and for a moment he almost did. But there was a quiet voice at the back of his mind that made him pause.

_She’s hurting, healing, hoping. Now isn’t the moment, just wait, a while longer. You’ll meet her soon._

No - now wasn’t the moment to introduce himself, not now. Bram stayed glued to the spot though for a few moments longer, watching her in silence.

For a moment, he could have sworn he saw someone standing beside her, a figure with an oversized hat. They leaned in, whispering to the Inquisitor, who opened her eyes. She looked into the thin crowd but their eyes didn’t meet.

He must have been imagining things.

Bram turned and went back towards the crowds. One drink, he told himself, one drink and then it was back to reading. He was too close to let go of it now.

 

 **Fifth** (On the Road)

_All they see is a flag, two ships passing in the night through the mountains._

There’s word that the Inquisitor is moving through the mountain pass the same week Bram and his team began their slow descent towards the basin.

It was only a moment on the road that Colette pointed out the Inquisition’s flag at a camp down the mountainside, raised to reflect the Inquisitor’s presence in camp. “We could go down, see if they want to share rations, introduce you to Her Worship,” Colette teased him, having spotted his expression back in Val Royeaux during the Divine’s coronation.

Bram snorted. “Ah yes, thank you, Colette,” He gave a wry smile, shaking his head. There was no time for anything but the road ahead of him. They were finally on the right track and, with luck, they could find the last resting place of Ameridan.

Instead, he turned back to their fire, helping to cook and clean their meal for the night. Come morning they would be out when the sun was rising, with the Frostback Basin on the horizon.

 

 **Sixth** (Basin)

 _They meet on the Basin floor and he swears his heart would leap out of his chest if it could_.

They’d set up the Research Outpost over the last week. Bram had never felt more excited than he did out in the field, unable to keep the dopey look from his face when settling into his cabin and finally finding himself face-to-face with ruins dating back to the Tevinter Imperium in the lush jungle. His search hadn’t been in vain.

“Good to see you, Inquisitor. Allow me to introduce you to Professor Bram Kenric. He’s the reason we’re out here.”

Bram tried to remain calm when they heard the Inquisitor and her companions were nearing the camp. He was a ball of nervous energy though, nearly knocking a rather breakable piece from the ruins nearby in his hurry to be out there to greet the group as they came in. He wanted to express his gratitude that they were there, to impress upon them the importance of the discoveries they were hoping to make along the Basin.

His whole heart fluttered in his chest when he saw them. The group was a strange mix (honestly the Qunari warrior in the back overshadowed nearly everyone) but his eyes were set on her. She walked at the front, staff strapped to her back, outfitted in light armor that befitted her station and her fighting. Even covered in mud from the travel down, blonde hair sticking to her sweat-slicked neck, the Inquisitor looked…

Bram tried to shake it from his head, unable to keep his eyes off her, stepping forward as Scout Harding introduced him. He inclined, a slight bow to benefit her station, lips curved into a small smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Worship.”

Manners dictated his actions, reaching out to grasp her hand lightly in his. He lifted her knuckled to his mouth, brushing a kiss against her leather-covered hand before letting it slip from his own.

“Professor Kenric teaches at the University of Orlais,” Harding continued. There was a brief moment, a flash of confusion across the Inquisitor’s face.

“You don’t sound like you’re Orlesian, Professor,” Her head tilted just slightly to the right, an amused smile sliding across her face.

Bram chuckled almost sheepishly. “Seems I’ve been found out. You’re right. I came on an exchange program from Starkhaven.” He couldn’t fight the nerves that followed, butterflies knotting in his stomach.

The Inquisitor cracked a smile. “You’re a long way from home, Professor Kenric." 

“I could say the same for you.” He debated, briefly, if he should let Scout Harding continue to fill the Inquisitor in, but he was too excited and continued on eagerly. “While in Val Royeaux I found something incredible! After eight hundred years, we may be able to determine the final resting place of the last Inquisitor.”

Not everyone was quite so eager with the academic discoveries and he worried, just for a moment, that he’d been too eager to share this with her. But the Inquisitor is excited, a small smile spreading across her lips as she answers in kind. “The texts say that Inquisitor Ameridan was a dragon hunter who vanished on his last expedition.”

“Yes, precisely!” Bram added, refusing to hide the eagerness in his tone, “ I see you’ve read Letrec’s _Precursors to the Chantry_.”

“I enjoy reading,” She admitted and Scout Harding laughed. 

“That’s an understatement, Your Worship.” The Inquisitor blushed and Bram swore he felt his heart flip at the sight. Clearing his throat, he tried to get back on track.

“Inquisitor Ameridan stepped down shortly before the Nevarran Accord brought the Seekers of Truth into the Chantry. He hunted demons, dragons and dangerous apostates in a time before Templars even existed.”

There was an eager glint in her eyes. “I suppose we’d best start looking, then, wouldn’t you say, Professor?”

“Yes, Your Worship-” He began but she held a hand up, shaking her head.

“Ellana will do,” She tilted her head towards the cabins, “Show me what you have.”

“Yes,” Bram replied, blushing, trying not to trip over his feet as he turned, “of course, _Ellana_.”

 


	2. Day 2: Everyday Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: Everyday life. Bram is infuriated over rumors flying through Val Royeaux and Ellana wonders if he'll stay.

“It’s insulting!” Bram had been pacing in her chambers, all but wearing a hole in her floor, since he’d arrived. Ellana tried to remain focused on the papers in her hands (missives, reports and writings that came with her position) but her eyes kept drifting over the tops of her papers to watch her lover. He was distressed, that much was easy to see and Ellana had nothing to soothe his worries.

His visits were few and far between in the last few weeks - crossing over the mountains wasn’t easy this time of the year nor did either of them have the time to spare from their work. Bram respected Ellana’s position, aware that she made choices that affected the world around them without worrying about guilting her into seeing him in Orlais. In turn, Ellana knew Bram was just beginning a promising turn in his academic world and wouldn’t dream of taking him away from Orlais.

Usually their visits were a mixture of work and simply enjoying one another. In the name of research, Ellana had found herself fully dedicated to exploring all the places that made him gasp and moan. Bram had no objections and therefore most of their visits were split in favor of spending as much time alone as they could manage. They made appearances where they had to but Ellana was never in a hurry to leave her room when Bram was at Skyhold.

“Bram,” Ellana sighed, setting her papers down, leaning on her desk, “please, it’s alright, there’s nothing to be fussed about.”

Bram stopped only to shoot her a horrified look. “ _ Nothing to be fussed about _ ?” He sputtered. “Why aren’t you more offended? Ellana, they compared you to a  _ rabbit _ and are spreading blatant lies about our sex life!”

He’d seen the latest issue of a local gossip rag that ran through Val Royeaux before he’d come to visit, still incensed after days on the road. Ellana, still buried in her work, had barely been listening as he listed off the offenses this article had displayed. None of this was new to Ellana, who had heard it all and worse. 

It came with her position, Josephine and Leliana had explained when Ellana heard the first rumors after taking her role. People would always be talking and, while they could do all they could to curb some of the nastier rumors, they couldn’t control everything. It hadn’t been easy the first few times she’d heard some of the nastier rumors, but after a good cry she had slowly begun to learn her lesson.

Instead of cursing and worrying, Ellana had worked on growing thicker skin.

Bram, however, hadn’t dealt with this sort of thing before. He ran his fingers through his curly hair, paced, cursed under his breath and looked at her with such irritation. Not at her - no, he couldn’t be angry with her over something she couldn’t control - but angry at the situation itself. Ellana realized quickly that he had never been in a spotlight like this and, much like her in the beginning, he was struggling to find his footing.

She wondered, briefly, if that was the reason Solas had been firm in being discreet, especially when they had been in public. That he had feared the attention as well and the rumors that might follow them both.

Just thinking about him,  _ comparing _ him and Bram, knotted her stomach.

Ellana couldn’t deny that she was anxious about this new relationship. Despite how he openly loved her, Ellana knew love sometimes wasn’t enough. It had only been a few months and Ellana knew from experience so much could change in the blink of an eye.

She was worried, like Solas, he would leave without so much as an explanation. What if he decided to leave as well now that he’d gotten into her bed? The notion twisted her stomach and she swallowed hard against the rising emotion in her throat. It was plausible, she thought, that he could decide not to stay, like the last person who had shared her bed.

“They’ve said worse,” Ellana replied, setting her papers down. She knew she wouldn’t get back to this, not tonight. “It comes with the job. That’s what they told me when I started.” Rolling her shoulders, she stepped up, stretching her arms above her head (satisfied when she heard a soft crack from her shoulder), eyes fixed on her lover.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stop.”

If he had any doubts, Ellana wanted to know about them. It would hurt, yes, but it would be far easier for him to leave now if he didn’t want the attention this would garner him. 

She braced herself for the truth, feet planted firmly to the ground. She would be a tree, she could weather anything thrown at her. Ellana would steel her heart, harden herself if she needed to. But a small voice at the back of her head whispered and hoped it wouldn’t be like the last.

“What?” Bram frowned, confusion written on his face, flabbergasted. “Why would I want to stop?” He paused a moment, adding hastily, “I mean, unless you’ve changed your mind. I, erm, don’t want to burden you but I had hoped…”

Ellana wrung her hands in front of her, stepping from around her desk. “I just know this isn’t exactly a normal courtship.” Her lips curved into a tremulous smile, shrugging and Bram didn’t contradict her. “There will always be people talking about me, about  _ us _ if you decide you want to stay. But I’m not going to hold you to any obligation if you choose to-”

" _Mo ghràdh_ , please," Bram interrupted, closing the distance between them with a few strides. His hands reached for hers, grasping them in his. “I had no plans to leave you over rumors. It’s uncomfortable, I’ll admit,” and he wrinkled his nose distastefully, almost drawing a laugh from his lady, “but I’m angry at them, I’m angry for you. They dismiss you without knowing you and it’s a grave mistake on their part.”

Ellana laughed then, softly, running her thumbs along the backs of his palms. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“What is there to regret?” One of his hands slipped from hers, reaching to pull her closer to him. “I’m afraid, my dearest lady, you are stuck with me until you choose to release me from your service.” His lips quirked ever so slightly upwards, leaning to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “For I am yours, hopelessly, devotedly.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic?” Ellana tried to tease him but she leaned into him, slipping her arms around his neck in a loose embrace. 

“Believe me,” Bram murmured, his hands at her hips, tugging her closer to him still, brushing his lips against her temple, “you are just as surprised as I am by this.”

“What did you mean before? The thing you said?”

“Oh,” Bram’s cheeks flushed in the cande light, laughing, “it’s an old language, dead one, with roots in Starkhaven. I called you my heart,  _ mo ghràdh _ ,” and at this he paused, one hand tilting her chin upward, “for you are my heart.”

“Sap,” Ellana murmured, standing on tiptoe to kiss him properly for the first time since he’d arrived. “You’ll spoil me with all these romantic phrases and gestures. I’ll be ruined for everyone else.”

For the moment, the gossip was forgotten, her fears had been soothed and Ellana felt herself relax in his arms. 

“I believe, my lady, that is the point,” Bram smirked, cupping her cheek and dipping to kiss her gently on the mouth.

“Teach me how to speak more of this dead language?” Ellana breathed against his lips. Bram laughed.

“I suppose I could. Besides,” and there was a wicked smirk playing on his lips, “I could teach you how to identify parts of the body. I find practical application helps with learning.”

They didn’t leave her chambers until the next morning, gossip mongers be damned.


	3. Day 3: Romance (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Romance. Ellana and Bram have a next-morning re-do of their first time with better results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't post smut a lot and I tried so hard to make sure it wasn't too clunky but pls be aware I am still blushing over the fact that I wrote it ooops.

Sunlight poured over his body, the world waking slowly but surely as she traced patterns along his bare back. Things were cramped in his bed, much narrower than she was used to sleeping in, but it only meant that Ellana snuggled in closer to Bram. He sprawled on his stomach, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, another slung haphazardly over her waist to pull her nearer even in sleep.

Bram looked peaceful when he slept and Ellana couldn't keep the soft, dreamy smile from her face. They'd woken up together before, but never like this. She'd been cautious, she wanted to wait until she knew this was real before pulling him into bed with her. It was an intimate thing, sharing her body with someone when it had gone so poorly the last time.

Truthfully, Ellana had been anxious and nervous, but she hadn’t been alone – Bram admitted freely that he’d been anxiously trying to plan for her next visit. Things could have been worse but she also easily admitted that they could have gone better. Nerves had gotten the best of them both. She'd been fumbling hands, unable to get his tunic off (laughing through the flush that had danced across her cheeks when she finally pulled it off him). Bram had tried for romance but his small bedroom left little space for much - it had been a sweet gesture all in all, even with the two candle nubs he'd kindled to try and set the mood.

Things had finished rather...quickly the night before. 

Bram had been horrified despite Ellana's reassurances that they could wait a moment, try again. That had gone out the window when, without any coaxing, he'd slipped from her, his mouth at her center before she could comprehend what he was doing. He'd apologized once she'd come back down from her climax, muttering promises into her skin, leaving little love bites along her stomach on his way back up.

"It's fine," Ellana muttered sleepily, tucked in against him, his fingers in her hair as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

"It'll be better next time," Bram promised before she'd drifted off into slumber.

In the morning light, Ellana could wax poetic about his hair (burnished copper, curly, perfect for tugging), the slope of his nose, the tiny smile lines along his eyes and lips. Her heart was full, overflowing with affection.

More accurately, she knew in that moment that she loved him.

"Bram," She whispered against his shoulder, leaving a soft kiss to a patch of freckles she was particularly fond of. She used her teeth to nip very lightly for good measure. "Wake up,  _ ma vhenan _ ."

Bram shifted, grumbling when sunlight hit his face. He squinted a moment, drowsily confused until she spotted recognition on his face. Confusion melted into a slow, easy smile, turning to his side as the arm stretched across her pulled her closer to him. "It's early yet," He murmured, voice hoarse from sleep, nuzzling his nose against the top of her head.

"Mmm, but I'm done sleeping," Ellana tilted her chin and he met her halfway. There was nothing hurried about this kiss, sloppy and slow. His hand cupped her hip, running a thumb tenderly across her skin. She nipped his lower lip playfully, drawing a muffled laugh from her lover.

"And what did you plan do now that you've decided you're done sleeping?"

A slow, impish smile stretched across her lips. "You."

Bram looked confused a moment, more so when she pushed her weight against him. He didn't fight it though, bemused when she straddled him. One hand pressed against his chest, the other framed his face. "I thought we might..." Ellana began, pausing a moment when she caught his expression. Open affection ( _ love _ , her heart whispered) was written on his face. She licked her lips. "Maybe we could...try this again?"

He turned his face against her palm, pressing a kiss at the very center of her marked hand. "Yes," he whispered against her skin and it was all the invitation she needed.

She took the lead and he was more than willing to follow. Ellana kissed him slowly, eagerly with desire burning on her lips. She was urgent, lips, teeth and tongue taking what she wanted, laughing against his lips when he took her lower lip between his teeth gently.

There was some shuffling as his arm tightened around her, keeping her from falling off his bed when his hips rolled into hers. "You need a bigger bed," She laughed breathlessly, holding tight to him as he sat, giving her a better angle to roll her hips against his again. Bram's lips caught her throat instead of answering her properly and she gave a low moan in response.

"We'll do this in your bed next time," Bram agreed, his voice muffled against her skin. She arched her back when he caught one of her breasts in his hand, running a thumb across it. "Next time," he murmured, leaning in to take the hardened peak in his mouth. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, letting a trembling pant fall from her lips. She rolled against him again, smirking at the guttural groan that hummed against her breast and the ever so slight twitch she felt from him in response.

_ I love you _ she all but whispered with every move she made, running her fingers through his hair, giving his curls a tug. He pulled away from her breast, lips curled in desire as she leaned in to kiss him again. His tongue met hers, lips swallowing the rasp that followed when his hand slid down her front. He knew how to the delicate bundle of nerves that sent her over the edge each time they were together.

Bram had gotten quite good at getting her off with his hands, especially when they’d been pressed for time his last visit. She’d been pressed against a bookshelf, her teeth digging into his clothed shoulder to stifle her moans before anyone found them. It had been in the afterglow that they’d made their plans for her next visit to see him (with the added hope of more privacy than they had in their library corner).

Ellana rolled against his hand, head thrown back, whimpering unabashedly. There were no couriers looking to hand her missives, no nobles waiting for her to pass judgement, no nosy companions to offer some friendly advice about her relationship. Just the two of them in this moment, tucked away from the world.

His hand was gentle, nudging her as she parted her legs ever so slightly to his fingers. Everything felt too hot, too tight and, despite her earlier decision to take control, Ellana let herself go to his ministrations. One finger slid in and she didn’t even bother biting back a choked breath, her eyes meeting his when a second joined. She was a shivering mess on his lap, hips moving up and down against his hand. One crook of his fingers and the words came tumbling from her lips.

“ _ Ar lath ma _ ,” Ellana was so close, so very close to the edge and she didn’t bother to stop herself from saying it.

Bram crooked his fingers again and everything narrowed to a sharp point. She cried out, grateful for the arm he had wrapped around her middle to keep her in place as she shook and trembled through her orgasm. His lips pressed against her neck, her collarbone, soothing and gentle as she all but cried from the relief of it all.

She slumped against him, catching her breath as he carefully pulled his fingers from her. She moaned, catching the sight of him popping them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Give me a moment,” she hummed, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of his neck, “I’m not leaving you like this.”

He kissed her cheek, the scratch of barely there stubble rubbing against her skin. “What did that mean?” He asked curiously. “The thing you said. I...I don’t recognize it.”

The last time she had uttered those words, she had already known her feelings were reciprocated. Despite the looks he gave her, all the signs that pointed to the obvious, Ellana hesitated a moment to tell him what it meant. He spotted the hesitation on her face, his hand cupping her cheek gently, his thumb running along her jaw.

She could wait, she thought, turning into his touch, she didn’t have to say anything now. But her heart was full as she reached between them, running the pad of her thumb along the hardness that pressed insistently against her stomach. His breath caught, head thudding hard against the headboard when she flicked her thumb along the very tip of him. He watched her with rapture on his face as she sank – so slowly – onto him.

“I love you,” Ellana whispered, hips rolling down until she was fully seated on him. A strangled groan fell from his lips, caught in the start of his pleasure, his eyes widening slightly at the confession. He watched a moment as she rose and sank again, slow and deliberate before his hand cupped her waist, leaning forward to capture her lips with his.

“I love you, too,” His voice broke, unsteady as he rolled with her, the pair of them working to find a steady rhythm. They were unhurried in their actions though as soft sighs fell from her lips, shifting her angle just right as he rubbed against the very place that sent her spiraling before. But he followed, seeking closeness with her, his breath hot and sticky against her skin as he kissed every spot he could find, nipping and biting to draw moans and little gasps from her with each roll of her hips.

Despite having come already, his hand still slid between them to help bring her over the edge a second time, lips latching onto the side of her neck as he bit down and sucked. It caught her, a tidal wave rolling and pulling her hard and fast as she gave a breathless cry, hips still moving to bring him with her. His grip tightened on her, his own release muffled against her skin, slowly easing to stillness again. He kept his arms wrapped around her, her own body slumped against his once more, a little laugh escaping her lips.

“That…that was…I just…” Ellana struggled to find the words, riding her high, nuzzling against him tenderly, affectionately,  _ lovingly _ . His lips pressed a kiss to the underside of her chin as she giggled.

“I think we managed a bit better,” Bram agreed in good humor, a finger trailing along her neck. She shivered when he traced the place where he bit down, giving her a sheepish sort of grin. “I think I got carried away here, it’s going to show…” He pressed a feather light kiss to her skin, a soft apology.

Ellana hummed contentedly, tangling her fingers in his hair. “I don’t have anywhere to go today. It’s well worth it.” She tilted his face upward to kiss him properly, murmuring against his mouth, “Was it worth getting up for?”

“Always, my love.” They were such simple words but in that moment, wrapped around one another, Ellana could honestly say she’d never felt happier to hear them.

 


	4. Day 4: Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events of Trespasser: Ellana faces a former flame and Bram waits for Ellana to wake.

_ Home. I want to go home. _

Each step felt heavier than the last as Ellana counted her injuries. Her head was spinning, blood trickling down her temple from being bashed with a Qunari buckler; there was a mystery pain somewhere along her leg that had her limping ever so slightly; and her hand, Creators,  _ her hand _ . Glowing sickly green, it sparked and fizzled, pain shooting from her fingertips all the way up her elbow. She had been grateful for long sleeves while they were in Halamshiral, hiding the evidence of the sickness that spread through her left arm.

“Inquisitor, your hand,” Vivienne rested a cool palm against Ellana’s neck. “You’re burning up, my dear.”

Was it fever or magic? Ellana didn’t know, letting out a hoarse laugh. It morphed quickly into a moan as her hand sizzled and she clutched it closer to her body. Even with her knowledge of rift magic, her basic understanding of the Fade and her conjectures to how it all came together along her palm, Ellana still had no answers. She had been frenzied in the weeks leading up to these moments, trying to find an answer to the buzzing and sharp pain that had begun to shoot up her arm.

There was only one logical explanation: Ellana was dying.

“We have to keep going,” She murmured, swallowing against the constant dryness in her mouth after she’d realized this only a fortnight ago. It had been a secret, one she kept tight to her chest, refusing to let anyone find out. This was her burden to bear, she thought, and there was no stopping the inevitable.

Ellana didn’t have many regrets, but one stayed with her as they moved through the ruins. Bram, wonderful Bram who had asked her to marry him, who she had smiled with and loved, would never know the terrible thing she kept from him. Her left hand felt empty, the ring she’d worn the last few months left with her advisors, instructed to return it to Bram if something were to happen.

“Inquisitor,” Josephine had muttered, clutching the ring in her hand, “do return to us safely.” There was uncertainty on her ambassador’s face and, as she had done for the last few weeks, Ellana had mustered up a half-hearted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’ll do my best, Josie.”

But Ellana didn’t know if that was possible. Everything hurt, everything ached and she could barely see straight. Her hand sparked and she howled.

If she only had more time.

She moved with purpose, unsteady on her feet, following the warriors searching to destroy Solas. Perhaps she should have been more surprised, but the clues had been there. Instead all she felt was weary and angry, pulling from her deepest reserves of mana to throw spells from her staff and fingertips.

Every breath, every moment was harder than before. Her legs trembled as she hurried forward, panting, her lungs burning as she fell through another Eluvian.

Ellana had never expected to see him again. But he stood before her and she realized, with startling clarity, that she had never really known him at all.

“You’re Fen’Harel.” Saying it aloud, staring into the eyes of a man she had once loved, and it all suddenly made sense. She had been reacting with her heart when her brain, her beautiful, logical mind, had refused to see the truth as it was. It felt like all the air had been forced from her lungs, wrapping her arms around her center, trying to stay calm. But she only heard a distant roaring in her ears, the sound of her heart shattering all over again, drowning everything else out around her.

Creators, how had she been so wrong?

“What is the old Dalish curse? May the Dread Wolf take you?” Despite his demeanor, there was sadness etched along his face, a weariness Ellana understood. She gave a harsh laugh, tears falling down her cheeks, a mixture of emotion and physical pain washing over her.

“And so he did.”

It was goodbye, she realized when his lips covered hers, his hand along her arm. The magic left but she still burned from the inside out. “I’ll save you, Solas,” She blubbered feverishly, watching him turn away from her. “I can’t let you destroy this world.” 

Ellana didn’t remember what came next, recalling only bits and pieces as she fell back through to her companions. She burned and ached and shook as her fingers refused to cooperate, as each movement sent a sharp, shooting pain through her entire being. “Take it,” she muttered over and over again, lower lip trembling, held down, blacking out when Bull’s axe came swinging to her infected arm.

For the first time in months, Ellana didn’t dream in shades of green.

 

* * *

 

He should have come sooner. Bram felt panic and fear weighing down on his chest as he adjusted in his chair. It was the same chair he’d plopped into nearly a day ago, refusing to leave (and if he did only to relieve himself and try to eat and drink something to tide him over), waiting with as much patience as he could muster for his Ellana to wake again.

“In the long hours of the night when hope has abandoned me, I will see the stars and know Your light remains.” He spoke the words under his breath, reciting from memory the canticle of trials, fingers laced together before him in prayer. It was all he could do; Bram wasn’t a healer, he had no solutions to fix what had torn Ellana apart from the inside out.

“I cannot see the path. Perhaps there is only abyss.”

He should have seen it sooner, he thought, swallowing hard. Bram had spent hours racking his brain, reaching back into memory to find the moments he had missed. Had she been in pain during her last visit to Val Royeaux? But he’d been swept up in research and his new apartment -  _ their _ new home, he told her, if she wanted it to be.

“Yes,” Ellana had breathed against his lips, sweeping him in for a soft kiss. She’d been quiet most of the trip but Bram knew about the Exalted Council, knew she had a lot on her mind and dismissed it as work stress. 

That had been the biggest mistake of his life.

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.” Bram’s voice broke, taking a shuddering breath as he unclasped his hands to reach for hers. He’d arrived too late, pacing along the halls of the Winter Palace as he waited for any sort of news. 

He’d watched her carried into the courtyard and his heart all but stopped. Ellana was so small in the Iron Bull’s arms, cradled close, covered in blood. “No-!” His legs barely held him upright.  _ Too late, too late, you were too late you damned fool _ .

This had been the final straw, the one-time-too-many when she didn’t spring back from the blows life had dealt her. Bram had read enough stories, memorized enough epics to know that you never fell in love with a hero; they were always meant to die. Was this it? The final breath, the legacy of her work the only thing left?

But she moved and Bram wept openly. To the damned Fade with the Orlesians and their whispers, he would not remain unaffected.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes again as he broke from the chant, whispering huskily, “Please, let her live. I’ll do whatever you like. I’ll serve You, if that’s what You want. I’ll sell all my worldly goods, I’ll devote myself to the Chant, I’ll...I’ll…” 

The dam he’d been so carefully holding up since he sat in his chair hours ago broke, a ragged sob escaping his lips. 

“Please,” he whimpered, broken, hushed and so utterly lost, “please, don’t take her from me.”

Bram didn’t remember falling asleep. He felt wretched: a kink in his back, his hair mussed from running his fingers through his curls, eyes puffy from crying. But he’d only closed his eyes a moment, he swore he wouldn’t sleep.

“Bram?” 

He thought it was a dream, shifting, groaning under his breath. But the bed shifted below him and he snapped awake suddenly. A relieved  _ whoosh _ of air escaped his lungs, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding gone when her green eyes met his from the bed.

“Ellana,” He took her hand, the only hand she had now, unable to stop the emotion from overflowing. He was overwhelmed, reaching to touch her cheek, to lean in gingerly for a kiss along her forehead. She was groggy, in severe pain, but  _ alive _ . 

“You’re here,” Ellana closed her eyes, glancing only a moment on the stump along her left side.

“Yes,” Bram swallowed hard, “and I promise, my love, I’m not leaving.”


	5. Day 5: Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar argument about how involved Ellana should remain with the shadow Inquisition following Trespasser.

The letters began arriving after their wedding. Ravens flew under the secrecy of night with letters and instructions. Pacing along the floor of their home, Ellana considered each word, thoughtful in the responses she penned with a careful hand. She needed something to do, something to occupy her time as she tried to sort through the loss of everything in the months before. 

Six months without her left hand and she was still getting used to waking without it. It no longer pained her like it had, the nub healed and scarred over just above her elbow. Ellana rubbed at it absentmindedly - if she closed her eyes, she could imagine it was still there. But, when she glanced to her left, she was brought back to the very real truth. 

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as she allowed herself one moment. One moment where she wallowed, slipping back into the darkness that had surrounded the ending of the Inquisition. Despite all she still had, Ellana felt the overwhelming sense that she had also lost everything. The weight of truth rested on her shoulders, a duty to do all she could to stop Solas from destroying her world. 

Easier said than done, of course, but Ellana, if anything, had become more determined in the last few months. She rested her hand along the gentle slope of her belly.  _ Life _ was worth fighting for.

“More letters?” Bram’s voice called from the doorway as Ellana opened her eyes again. He gave her a tired smile that she mirrored with ease. 

“A few came earlier,” she replied, “I was trying to reply to a few of them before bed.” Some were easier to reply to while others required a little more thought. The ones asking her opinion were saved for when she was well-rested while confirmations that she had received information could be scribbled out and sent off first thing in the morning. 

“Surely they can all wait until morning?” Bram questioned, the beginnings of a frown creasing along his forehead. It had become his expression whenever he saw new letters sitting on her desk. “You’ve been in here all day, my love.”

“I could say the same of you and your research,” Ellana replied blithely, dipping her quill into the inkwell to pen out a quick response to Harding. 

“Yes,” Bram countered, “but you need to rest, Ellana. You’ve been through so much and you’re carrying our child. Shouldn’t you be focused on-”

“On what?” Pausing in her reply, Ellana could feel her own temper flaring at the mere mention of giving anything less than her best to the Inquisition, let alone that her pregnancy should keep her from doing what was necessary. “Sitting around playing happy housewife?”

“I never said that,” He countered quickly.

“No, but you’re implying it.”

“I’m just saying,” Bram glowered, “that you’ve already given enough. How much more will they ask of you? When do you draw the line?”

“They don’t  _ have _ to ask, Bram,” Ellana gave up on her response, all her attention on her disgruntled husband before her. “I need to finish this.”

“No!” Bram countered, “No, you’re not! I-I’m putting my foot down!”

Ellana blinked, her own anger forgotten for a moment at that statement. Bram also looked confused, frowning as he opened his mouth to speak, paused and shut it again.There was something almost comical about the silence that followed, their argument a flash in the pan that fizzled out before it could even begin. Most days, their short arguments were about the same thing and it all boiled down to one thing: the Inquisition.

“You’re putting your foot down?” She couldn’t help it - Ellana laughed. Despite his best efforts, he didn’t quite give off the intimidating presence he thought his words might give him. He just looked disheveled and tired all in one breath, all his anger deflating from him at her laughter. 

Bram sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a rough grumble. “It sounded better in my head. Aloud I sound like a fool,” he murmured, half embarrassed, half apologetic. “Have I become the cliche husband, my dear?”

“According to Cassandra’s romance novels, yes.” She reached her hand out and Bram shuffled forward. He sank to his knees before her, hands along her thighs, sighing when her fingers wrapped loosely in his curled. “Tell me,” she urged with a gentle urgency, “tell me what’s troubling you.”

There was a long silence as Bram seemed to weigh his words. “I can’t lose you again,” he murmured, his head sinking into her lap, words muffled against the fabric of her skirt, “please, don’t ask me to let you walk into danger again. I know you’ve survived so much. But, please, you’ve given them so much. How much more will you give?”

That was the question, Ellana thought, leaning back in her chair with a slow sigh. How much more was she willing to give to her cause? Part of her screamed  _ everything _ because without her best efforts, the world might be lost to them all forever. The chaos of seeing the Veil torn apart would cause death, destruction and the loss of all that made this world beautiful. She was no longer First, but her goal to protect and preserve the memory of all they had done still sung in her heart.

But she couldn’t give everything to this cause. Her life had evolved into this beautiful, splendid thing. Yes, her heart had been broken, but it had also been healed. It would never be the same but the fractured pieces of her life were made whole by the man kneeling at her feet. He lifted his head, their eyes meeting and Ellana was struck all over again with the love he offered her freely. 

Ellana no longer had to fight through life alone. But she also didn’t have to blindly take the weight of the world onto her shoulders. A few years, that’s what Solas had said, a few years of relative peace before he set his plan into motion. 

She reached for one of his hands, pressing it gently to the bump beneath her gown. “We’re not going anywhere,  _ ma vhenan _ .”


	6. Day 6: Dealing with Rifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More like dealing with loving the Inquisitor - Ellana returns after a trip to the Deep Roads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awh snap two updates in one day so I could play catch-up on this week.

“Next time I get excited about going down into the Deep Roads, remind me of this exact moment,” Ellana groaned as Bram helped her remove each piece of her armor. Moving felt like too much effort and she sucked in a quick breath when his fingers brushed against a rather livid bruise along her side. “Careful,” she murmured, face screwed up as Bram muttered a gentle apology.

This is what she got for fighting a piece of a Titan. Or whatever it had been. 

Despite her urge to discover the truth behind the creature she had fought far below the surface, her need for a hot bath outweighed her need to crack open a few books from knowledgeable sources. Seeing Skyhold had been a welcome enough sight, but news that Bram had trekked across the Frostbacks made it an even better welcome home than she had anticipated.

“We would have matched just a few days ago,” Bram teased her gently, wiping a smudge of grime from one of her cheeks. She gave a small snort, holding her arm out to him. The first time he’d attempted to take her armor off, he had fumbled a little more, uncertain which buckles connected to which piece. Bram, however, was a quick study, making quicker work of it each time he had the opportunity. She didn’t miss the concerned expression that continued to show on his face at each splattered blood stain or the wincing when he brushed against a particularly sore point.

“You really took a beating,” He murmured, careful when his hands reached to smooth a section of hair away from her face. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Everywhere,” Ellana answered honestly as he tugged on her sleeve, helping her slip out of her leathers. She let out a soft sigh, happy when all that remained was her tunic up top. “Wait,” she murmured when he knelt before her, his fingers working on the laces of her boots, “I can do that.”

“Are you sure?” His hands stilled at her command though, glancing up with a crooked little smile. “I  _ am _ already down here.”

“Let me sit down first,” Ellana shuffled away from him, settling gingerly down onto the couch. Bram didn’t waste any time as he worked the laces apart, gently tugging each boot from her foot in turn. The relief was evident on her features as she wiggled her toes gratefully. “I’ve forgotten how tiring traveling can be,” She murmured, giving an appreciative sigh when his thumbs pressed along the arch of her left foot. “I’ve gotten too used to being here or in Val Royeaux.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Bram countered with a little smile, moving to firmly run his fingers along her other foot. Not a true massage but a promise for something far better later. “Are there rifts below the surface?” He paused, adding after a moment, “Do you think there’s room for rifts to open so far beneath the surface? Does lyrium affect the probability of anything tearing apart down there?”

Ellana considered this thoughtfully, glancing over her shoulder when a knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Hot water, which she was grateful Cassandra had promised to send up, poured swiftly into the tub by the fire. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the mining operation they have below ground has something to do with no rifts appearing,” Ellana postured, taking Bram’s waiting hands so he could pull her back to her feet. “I don’t know the basic principle of why dwarves don’t have magic but there could be something to be said about the fade, rich in magic and dreaming, being the last thing to appear down there.”

Bram laughed as he helped her out of her clothes. There was something tender and intimate about his touch; it wasn’t sexual in nature but his hands slid along her skin, as though he was checking to make sure she was still in one piece. She knew it wasn’t easy for him, knowing the dangers she put herself in on a daily basis in the field. She always came back, though, she made a point never to promise it but she always came home again.

“Will you join me?” She asked as he helped her into the tub, hissing as the hot water seeped into her skin. It felt glorious and she knew she’d need to give herself a good scrubbing to rid herself of dirt, grime and lyrium dust that clung to her skin.

“I was thinking I’d get your hair instead,” Bram pressed a kiss to the side of her neck as he knelt by the side of the tub. He was firm, tender with his touch as his fingers pushed into the muscles along her neck. She wasn’t too bruised there (but he kept a safe distance from the darker bruises forming) as his fingers worked into the knots.

All in all, it wasn’t the worst way to come home.


	7. Day 7: Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding in Wycome.

After the uprising in Wycome, it was an act of the Maker that the  _ vhenadal _ remained standing. That was what the alienage  _ haharen _ said when Ellana had stood before the tree, a reminder of the elves and their time in Arlathan. Ellana had to bite her tongue, lips curling into what she hoped was a convincing smile. It felt more like a grimace, a bitter reminder of the plight she’d left behind in the crossroads. Her mind had been churning for weeks, caught in the cycle of hopelessness and uncertainty. From disbanding the Inquisition, the loss of her arm and her sudden need to be with her family, Ellana had never felt more lost.

Thank the Creators for Bram.

“We’ll go to Wycome,” He’d replied without any hesitation when she asked to see her family. She would have gone alone but Bram didn’t seem to consider the idea of not going with her. He’d been at her side when she’d woken, stood firm when she called to disband and helped her navigate a new life without her title. Bram had gone on sabbatical from the university, following without delay to Skyhold as Ellana did her best to close up the official organization while putting their secret Inquisition to work.

All of it had been exhausting. But there was a steady hand to reach for hers, a partner who stood resolutely at her side without any hint of folding.

Being with clan Lavellan had helped more than Ellana had anticipated. Being among those she had spent her life with, who knew her before she had been Inquisitor Lavellan, soothing an ache that she didn’t realize was there. Sorrow was still an ever-present weight on her chest but being with her people healed heal her slowly. 

“You look beautiful,  _ da’len _ ,” Her mother carefully braided in the last of the flowers into Ellana’s hair. Glancing up in the mirror before her, Ellana caught a soft, wistfulness in her mother’s expression, the low light catching the lines of Sylaise’s markings along her face.

“Thank you,  _ mamae _ ,” Ellana reached for her mother’s hand, squeezing it gently with her own. “Don’t start crying,” She added with a rough laugh, seeing a brightness in her mother’s eyes. “If you start, I won’t be able to stop.”

Her mother laughed, dabbing at her eyes, giving her daughter a watery smile. “Alright, alright, little one.” 

Ellana wanted to argue that she was no longer little, that she had grown up. But the evidence of that was clear to anyone who looked upon the former First. Ellana was no longer the girl who had left her clan for the Conclave all those years ago. Bare-faced (finally without shame), scarred and pieced back together, Ellana sat before the mirror grown in ways she could never have expected. 

Her gaze slid to the prosthetic Dagna had gifted her upon her arrival to Wycome. Crafted from wood, held together by runes and strummed to life with her own magic, Ellana had been overwhelmed at the thoughtful gift. There were still kinks to work out, things to tweak and adjust, but Ellana appreciated it nonetheless. She’d worn it the last two days, trying not to focus on how clunky it felt, assuring herself that she’d adjust to it eventually. She thought about wearing it tonight but Ellana set that thought aside easily.

Instead, she stood, smoothing out the creases along her pale silver gown, catching one last look in the mirror. Blonde hair tucked away in intricately braided sections, flowers in warm summer colors woven into her hair and Ellana felt strangely at peace. She had experienced loss, yes, but her gaze shifted, each step moving her forward to the future.

He stood beneath the  _ vhenadal _ , waiting for her. His hands clasped behind his back, fidgeting as she watched him a moment before she stepped into view. Any nerves she felt left the moment Bram’s gaze met hers. His mouth opened, a soft ‘o’ as  he let out a swift exhale. 

There were so many things she could focus on: the glimmering lights that had been magicked into the trees, her clan, the faces of the Inquisition and his family with their eyes on her, the soft glow of the sunset. But her gaze stayed on him, regal in the colors of his family, kilted like the rest of the men from Starkhaven, his ginger curls tamed if only for the moment. 

Despite all the hurt and the pain and misery she had endured, Ellana’s heart felt lighter than it had in so long. She didn’t worry about the future, didn’t wallow on the past, let go of the weight she carried and only took one step after the other towards Bram.

He held his hand out for her when she neared and, without hesitation, Ellana reached forward, her fingers intertwining with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the final part might be short because I am running out of steam but THIS WILL GET COMPLETED. If you wanna read more about the nerds, continue onto The Scholarly Pursuit of Love where I'll be posting more moments from these idiots.


	8. Day 8: Free Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last day. Ellana and Bram share their first kiss.

Ellana was  _ freezing _ . 

Shaking from the cold and the adrenaline that rushed through her system (she had  _ spoken _ to the last Inquisitor, set free another old god and now had to go fight him before he destroyed everything in his path) with each step she took. She took the incline back from the fort at a run, racing back to where the Avvar forces had helped with the siege. 

They had taken hits, Ellana noted, but they had known those were the odds going in. No one entered battle thinking they’d escape unscathed. 

“Inquisitor!” Ellana turned her head when she heard Scout Harding call out. Ready for a report, she froze when she spotted him following closely behind Harding. Bram out in the field of battle stopped her heart - the Professor had easily admitted he had no experience with a blade and had stayed safely out of the way when they stumbled across dangers in the jungle surrounding their camps. He was eager, enthusiastic, but never boasted about fighting skills. 

“Harding,” Ellana gave a nod but her eyes fixed solely on Bram, who looked a little queasy upon seeing the bodies of Avvar afield before him. “Bram,” her tone shifted, dropped lower as she reached for his hands on instinct, “what are you doing here?”

“I...I came to...Maker have mercy,  _ did you see that dragon _ ?” Wide-eyed and apparently overwhelmed, Bram glanced to the sky where Hakkon had flown over only minutes before back to Ellana. “You’re covered in blood,” he murmured, concern taking over as his hand brushed against her cheek. It came back red in her vision as she shook her head at his worried look. “Are you hurt?”

“Not mine,” Ellana replied quickly, shivering against his touch, her heart pounding in her ears. They had been so chaste, so incredibly slow with their relationship. How silly, she thought, that all he had to do was touch her and she felt like her heart was ready to fly out of her chest. “I mean, probably not all of it’s mine.” She had taken a few hits but the cold was the worst part. Even with her frost magic abilities, nothing could have prepared her for the wintry chill that surrounded the cavern below the fort.

“I have to fight a dragon,” she murmured, turning into his touch when his hand rested against her cheek once again. “Won’t be the first time.” She had fought and killed so many dragons before - celebrated, she thought, over her prowess against the beasts of the regions. But she felt a tremor of nerves run through her, a surge of uncertainty. 

“Right,” Bram replied breathlessly, “of course, is there anything I can-” But he stopped, his eyes on her lips, closer than they’d been before. 

Ellana wondered, briefly, what it would be like to kiss him. Her last first kiss had been hasty, clumsy and each after rushed and colored with what Ellana had assumed was passion. Her memories painted a far better picture of her last relationship but she didn’t know what Solas had intended with each kiss he gave her and each he took willingly. Their last kiss had been in the glade, soft and tender and Ellana had almost missed the grief that crossed his features only after. 

But he wasn’t Solas. Bram looked at her and Ellana wanted nothing more than to grab his shirt, tug him forward and kiss him. 

_ Take happiness where you can, Inquisitor. The world will take the rest. _

“Inquisitor, we must go!” Cassandra was shouting from ahead. Her companions were ready to take their swords against a beast and there she was, mooning over a boy like a lovesick girl. 

The moment felt lost as she sighed. “I should-” But she stopped, her words cut off when two fingers tilted her chin upwards. His mouth was soft, warm against hers. He made no demands and, while there was urgency to the moment, he did not push. The world slowed, stopped and for a moment it was just the pair of them. Ellana molded her mouth against his, a soft sigh escaping when they parted. It was nice, comforting, soothing; like she’d found herself home after weeks afield.

“Be careful,” He breathed when he pulled away, their foreheads touching. His nose brushed tenderly against hers, affection nearly melting Ellana right then and there. If she didn’t have to leave, she wouldn’t have. She would have grounded herself in that moment, lost in the firm embrace of someone she  _ cared _ about more dearly than she had ever anticipated.

“I’ll come back,” Ellana swallowed hard as she pulled away gingerly from his close embrace. “Go to the village, stay there, help in case anything-”  _ In case anything goes wrong.  _ But that was a last-case scenario. Ellana tried to give him a reassuring smile but he looked nervously on. “I’ll come back,” She added, a little more feeling to her tone.

She gave him one last peck, standing on tiptoe before she pulled away completely. His hand lingered at her waist but he wouldn’t tether her from her duty. Instead she heard the soft sigh leave his body, hearing rather than seeing the slight deflate.

She didn’t have to turn around to know he was watching her, would watch her until they were out of sight. The taste of him lingered on her lips - warm, a hint of sweet and spice that she couldn’t place and she felt light as they hurried to the shoreline.

(When she returned hours later, freezing still, she hurried into his waiting arms in the village, pulling him into a crushing embrace before her lips met his once again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final entry for the Dragon Age Alt Pairing Week 2016! I had a blast running with these idiots for the duration of the 8 day prompts. Huge thanks to @trevelyann once again for inspiring me to write these nerds and being one of my biggest cheerleaders as I slogged through some of these days. There will be more, just not in this story - check out The Scholarly Pursuit of Love here or hit me up on tumblr at alittlestarling.tumblr.com to send prompts, chat about characters and cry over Dragon Age. Thanks to everyone who's read and kudos/commented, it really means a lot to see people enjoying what I'm writing, especially with a non-canon pairing.


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